


Short S.T.A.L.K.E.R. stories

by hope_to_last



Series: Comment fics and requests [1]
Category: S.T.A.L.K.E.R. (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Driving, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Piggyback Ride, Rain, References to Illness, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_to_last/pseuds/hope_to_last
Summary: Collection of short fics written as requests on tumblr





	1. Piggyback ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: I wish you would write a fic where Scar gives Strelok a piggyback ride.

“I’m fine,” Strelok said between clenched teeth. He fumbled with the laces of his boots to tighten them up, and hissed in pain at the slight compression around his ankle.

“No, you’re not.” Scar’s insistence of contradicting his opinion only irritated Strelok further.

“I said I’m fine!” Strelok’s patience was reaching its limit. If he heard anything resembling an  _I told you_ so, he was going to flip out.

Scar kept his mouth shut, but Strelok could feel the mercenary’s gaze on him, no doubt dripping with a mix of amusement and disapproval. Ignoring him, Strelok grit his teeth and tried to stand up. Unfortunately, Scar was right. Strelok’s swollen and abused ankle didn’t cope well with the pressure of supporting his meagre weight, and the stalker fell down again. Trying to prevent further injury, he flailed wildly, trying to grab something that would help him keep upright. The only thing at hand’s reach was the rusted ladder steps. It was the same ladder he’d fallen from. And, as the treacherous step that fell of its place while Strelok climbed it, the one he just grabbed also came loose and tumbled down. Strelok suddenly found himself getting reacquainted with the floor, his poor backside slamming against the hard concrete. Something that sounded suspiciously like a barely contained chuckle came from Scar. Strelok failed to see what was so funny.

“You know, I sort of wondered why you got injured so often. Then I realised you’re a reckless moron,” Scar said, squatting next to him. He unlaced the stalker’s boot and peeled the sock down. The area was swollen and reddened. “It will be a miracle if your ankle isn’t broken, no joint should ever be bent like yours was. And all for what, the possibility of finding a stash up there?”

“I’m sure I’ll be right as rain in a day,” Strelok insisted, ignoring most of Scar’s points and focusing on his twisted ankle. He’d broken bones before and this felt different. Nothing that a night’s rest and the right artifact couldn’t fix.

“And you plan to spend that day sitting here?”

Much as it irked him, Scar did have a point. They were in the middle of the so called Wild Territory. The mercenary gangs weren’t interested in them, at least for now, and man that was a big change from the last time Strelok was here. However, there were still bandits and roving packs of mutants to take into account. This place had become a hunting ground for bloodsuckers, snorks and even controllers and the odd pseudogiant.

“C'mon, we’re going back to the bar. Maybe one of Duty’s sawbones will fix you.” Scar decided for both of them.

After a lively discussion, which involved threats to knee the mercenary in the stomach, Scar dropped his plan to carry Strelok over his shoulder. He wasn’t a sack of flour, thank you very much. He was much happier in this current position than dangling over Scar’s shoulder. Strelok was enjoying the piggyback ride, he felt taller than ever and leaning on Scar’s back was nice. However, the mercenary didn’t seem to be having much fun.

“Fuck, for such a skinny guy you weigh a ton,” Scar grumbled, unhappy with his new human backpack. “I bet you’d be much lighter without that damned suit.”

Well, he was right, SEVA suits were heavy. But instead of saying so, Strelok preferred to needle him. “Is that an admission you’re getting old, or an attempt to get me out of my clothes?”

Scar’s ensuing laughing fit was rudely interrupted by a Controller coming for them from the other corner of the train yard. The mutant extended its arm forward, and Scar ducked inside an anomaly infested garage to break the line of sight with it. When it came to Controllers, out of sight meant out of reach for they mind scrambling psychic attack. 

“Lemme get a weapon and I’ll kill that son of a bitch.” Strelok was already trying to reach the backpack before he finished speaking.

“If you fire a weapon next to my ear I swear I’ll toss you into one of these anomalies,” Scar threatened him. Damn, he hadn’t thought about that. Scar’s grumpiness was justified in this case.

“Hold on tight, on the count of three I’ll run to the sniper gallery.” Scar outlined his plan. It could work. Behind that building there always was a Duty patrol or two, guarding the access point to the bar area. Sometimes they even took positions inside the sniper gallery and actually sniped some mutants or bandits.

“Wait!” Strelok needed a moment to put the backpack in its place, not without grabbing a grenade first. “Okay, on the count of three I’ll throw a little surprise to our friend and then you run.”

For once their plan went off without a hitch. Perhaps because it was difficult to mess up a plan so simple as throw grenade and run. Now Strelok clung to Scar as the mercenary ran as fast as he could with all the extra weight he carried. No sooner they had reached the other side of sniper gallery **,** Scar had to stop to catch his breath.

“Urgh… you’re strangling… me,” Scar managed to say with some difficulty.

Noticing that during their race to safety he had tightened his arms around Scar’s neck, Strelok loosened up the pressure until it was more like a hug and less like a choke hold. The mercenary happily confirmed him this was much better.

Once Scar could breathe properly again, they resumed their way to the bar. However, at Strelok’s insistence they first stopped the Duty patrol to let them know of the hopefully injured Controller , roaming on the train yard, so it wouldn’t sneak on any of them unaware.

Afterwards they continued their way to the bar, ignoring the surprised stares of stalkers unused to seeing a mercenary carrying around a stalker piggyback style.


	2. It’s okay to cry…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Uhhh, 62 ("It’s okay to cry…”) with Scar and Strelok sounds really good, doesn't it?

The room smelled like illness and Scar felt like he was suffocating in the reduced space. The walls seemed to be closing in on him, trapping him in there. He hated it, and hated waiting too. He’d rather be outside, fixing the roof, or chopping wood, or even taking out the pseudo-dog for a walk, even if the beast hated his guts. Instead he just fidgeted in his chair, trying to find a position that wouldn’t leave his butt numb.

The old man coughed, a dry rasping sound that shook his whole frame, and Scar could almost feel the waves of worry coming off from Strelok. It was fortunate they’d arrived when they did. After finishing his business with the scientists of Yanov they explored the area for some time, and everything had been fine. Then Strelok decided he wanted to go back to visit Doc again. The plan didn’t sound very promising to Scar, he was aware the old stalker didn’t like him one bit and only tolerated him for Strelok’s sake. However ridiculous the comparison was, the whole idea reminded him of when he was a kid and his mother complained about having to visit her in-laws every two weeks. He ended up caving to Strelok’s wishes, though. And when they arrived they found the old man battling a really nasty flu and barely able to stand on his own.

Now, despite what some people might think, Scar wasn’t entirely heartless. He helped Strelok put Doc to bed and sat on his bedside, both of them watching helplessly as Doc seemed to get worse instead of better.

“Ivan, my boy, is that you?” Doc sat half upright in his bed, looking at Strelok with unfocused eyes. “Is your mother here too?”

An uncomfortable silence dropped around them. Strelok opened his mouth and closed it again when no words came out.

“N-no, she isn’t here,” he finally managed to answer.

Doc sighed and slid down on his pillow again. “A shame. It’s been too long since I spoke to my dear sister. So much work at the hospital…”

Strelok got up and went away in a hurry, excusing himself with barely a word. The old stalker fell asleep almost immediately afterwards, looking oddly frail and small for someone who looked so threatening when he told Scar he would kill and feed him to his pseudo-dog if he hurt Strelok again. Even the ugly mutt looked subdued, lying at the bed’s feet and whimpering like a lapdog whenever Doc coughed violently.

When a boring and seemingly endless amount of time passed and Strelok hadn’t come back yet, Scar went in search of him. He found Strelok sitting hunched on the couch and furiously rubbing at his eyes.

“You know, it’s okay to cry,” Scar sat next to him on the worn couch.

“Yeah, I was just… I… he didn’t even knew who I was.”

In an instinctive move, he put his arm around Strelok’s shoulders. Scar was mildly surprised Strelok didn’t shrug it off, and he was even more surprised when Strelok leant against him without a word.

“That was the fever talking. He’ll get better soon, you’ll see.” In truth Scar had no way of knowing if Doc would get better or not, but it felt like that was the right thing to say.

“I hope you’re right.” Strelok sighed heavily and rested his headagainst Scar’s side.

Scar was more than fine with that. He enjoyed the moment, sitting in the couch and holding Strelok in the silence of the shack, listening the sounds of the swamp’s wildlife outside while it got dark. He couldn’t help a small smile when Strelok fell asleep and started to snore. The man obviously needed a break, he’d been fretting constantly since they arrived. Perhaps the morning would bring them some good news for a change.


	3. Here, let me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: For the prompt thingie, would be great if you did 96 (Here, let me) with Scar and Strelok <3

Deep down Strelok knew it was a waste of time, but for some reason he’d decided to humour Scar. Maybe because there was little else to do here in the Great Swamp, while they waited for Doc to get better.

Scar had found an abandoned military jeep not far away, and it got in his head that, since the ground here was mostly plain, moving around in a vehicle would be far better than trekking up and down the swamp when it was time to leave again. Somehow, Strelok didn’t remember exactly how it happened, he ended up confessing he didn’t know how to drive. Or if he ever did, he didn’t remember anymore. For some unfathomable reason, Scar decided it was his mission to teach Strelok to drive. So far, he didn’t remember ever needing to drive in his life, but it wasn’t like his memory was perfect. Strelok still had some sizeable holes when it came to remembering his own past.

That was how he found himself where he was now, eyeing the abandoned jeep with thinly veiled mistrust. At least the car didn’t look rusted, so it probably hadn’t been out there for a long time. A small relief, since it was less likely the car would fall to pieces as soon as they started the engine. Here came another small problem: they would have to hotwire the car.

He watched amused as Scar fumbled with the wires beneath the steering column, mumbling to himself  _“_ _Okay… let_ _’_ _s see…_ _”_  and had the impression Scar was winging this more than actually knowing how to do it.

“Do you have a knife?” Scar asked him. “I need to peel a couple of wires.”

Of course Strelok had a knife, he carried his lucky knife everywhere. It had saved him from more than one angry mutant.  “Sure. Here, let me.”

He more or less shoved Scar aside and set to work on the ignition and battery wires. Some things he did remember, especially the hour long discussion he once had with Fang about the best way to steal a car. All purely theoretical, of course, but only because they found no cars for a practical demonstration.

“Okay, now you only need to bring those two together and done!” Strelok turned around to face Scar, who kept looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“You don’t remember how to drive, but you remember how to hotwire a car?”

Strelok shrugged off his surprise. “One of my friends liked to talk about electronics and anything that had to do with wires.”

They hopped into the car without a further word. The first impression Strelok had when sitting into the driver’s seat was the vehicle had been made by giants and for giants. Shit, his feet barely reached the pedals! Weren’t those supposed to be important for driving? He tried to adjust the seat while the Scar launched onto an explanation about the pedals, and the stick and lever between the seats.

“… I think that covers it for now. Try to start the car,” Scar said while watching him like a hawk from the co-pilot’s seat.

Alright, that shouldn’t be so difficult, right? Just hold down the clutch, put first gear and accelerate gently. He could do that. Wrong. The engine started with no problem, but the vehicle didn’t move an inch.

“What’s wrong with this piece of junk?”

“The handbrake, Strelok,” Scar reminded him, amusement colouring his voice.

Oh, right! He put the brake down and everything went fine for about five seconds. Then the car suddenly stalled and Strelok collided against the steering wheel. What a great start.

After a few more rough starts, Strelok finally got it right. The military jeep moved confidently through the plain, trampling over the rocks and brittle bushes in the way like it owned the place. That was a pretty cool feeling.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” he beamed at Scar, who hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re doing fine. Try to change into second gear.”

He went for it, and the car then swerved sideways, drifting like it had life of its own. What the hell? Strelok grabbed the steering wheel tighter, like that would make him regain control.

“That was the handbreak, not the gear stick!” Scar shouted at him. Oh yes, because that was very helpful right now!

“How do I –”

Something crashed against the rear end of the car, and through the rear mirror he saw something odd. One second there was nothing and the next a vaguely human-shaped figure was sailing through the air. The figure literally disappeared before he could see what happened to it. Holy shit, he’d just hit a bloodsucker! However, now that the car had stopped drifting, he had more pressing concerns. Like the fact he was in a straight course to the water.

“Fuck, that was unexpected,” Scar was still looking through the rear mirror, and thus he missed Strelok’s panicked face when he pressed on the brakes.

“This shit isn’t stopping!”

“Okay, try to –”

The vehicle had been slowly veering left all this time, and was now running into a thicker patch of vegetation. They collided against a small tree whose thin trunk broke upon impact, the wood splinters scratching the underside of the vehicle with a high-pitched, irritating sound. Then they hit another one. And another. Thankfully, after three successive impacts, the jeep finally stopped, scratched and abused beyond belief. Strelok let out a shaky breath and marvelled at the fact they were whole and unscathed beyond some bruises.

“That was a great lesson,” Strelok deadpanned as he watched a thin plume of smoke rising from the crumpled hood of the car. “Very educative. I learnt at least two ways of making the car crash.”

Scar grunted, whether in pain or in disagreement was hard to tell. “Let’s never talk of this again.”

He nodded in agreement, that was a great idea.  At least their little joy ride hadn’t taken them too far away from Doc’s cabin. He’d hate to have to walk a long distance right now, he ached all over from the impact.

“Hey Scar, how do you feel about giving me a piggyback ride?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: idk if youre still doing these but if so, maybe 79 or 81 with scar and strelok? your content gives me life honestly ( I more or less fused both prompts [79. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” & 81\. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?”] into a single one-shot.)

“Did I hear that right?” It was a pointless question, Scar knew perfectly well what he’d heard. He wasn’t  _that_  old.

“I don’t see the problem, it’s only water. It won’t make you shrink down or anything, ” Strelok waspishly shot back.

Scar could feel the exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. Or perhaps that was only an effect of the heat. It was a summer hell here in Yanov; sticky hot and relentless sun all day long for weeks. And most probably the reason their tempers had been running so short for the last few days. The proximity of the so called Ash Heap Anomaly didn’t help matters. The ruins of Kopachy village were like an oven.

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm, and you want to stop and feel the rain? This isn’t a musical!“

“We’re already getting wet!” Strelok pointed to the missing wall and roof of the house they’d been investigating.“And at least out there there’s less radiation!”

He saw Strelok go away in a huff, out of the rundown shack they were looting and into the rain. Scar rubbed his palm over his hair and snorted in frustration. Say whatever you wanted, it was a stupid idea. Strelok was gonna –

A shot rang out, the unmistakable sound of a bullet grazing a brick wall. He got out in less than a second and ran towards Strelok. A small horde of zombified stalkers was coming towards them. Some days it almost seemed like they spontaneously spawned around the ruins of the village. Of course, Strelok was highly efficient in shooting at shuffling bastards, but Scar felt compelled to help him.

The rain blurred his vision and using the scope didn’t yield much different results either. It also muffled the sound of everything else that wasn’t the droplets hitting on the drenched ground. Thunder slashed the sky in a flash of light. The rumble was so loud it made the ground vibrate. Another flash of orange light illuminated the horde slowly approaching them, and Scar felt the panic bubble in his chest. It was a fucking blowout, he was sure of it. He could  _feel_  it. They had to go, now. The house behind him was not good enough to protect them from an emission but they had a whole village to choose from. Surely they’d find something.

He focused back into the situation at hand and shot down a zombie that was flanking Strelok, who was making short work of the rest of the horde with deadly accuracy.

Scar went up to him and put his hand on Strelok’s shoulder. “We need to go!”

“What? Why?” Strelok didn’t even look at him, too busy reloading his old SIG. “There aren’t that many, we’ve fought off worse odds.”

“We have to find cover. Trust me.” Strelok looked at him now, studying Scar’s expression. He hesitated for a moment, like he was weighing options in his head, and then nodded in agreement.

Scar dragged Strelok by the sleeve of his SEVA suit while frantically searching for a house that wasn’t too destroyed. He eventually found what he was looking for on the other end of Kopachy. The house was miraculously whole, at least when compared to the rest. The inside was empty, both of furniture and rubble.

“Mind telling me what all this is about?” Strelok asked him once Scar let go of him.

It would happen soon, any moment now. After two weeks of deceptive calm this one would be big, he knew it. And Scar had vowed to never get caught out on another damned blowout. It wasn’t a particularly fun experience. However, the sky continued to be a dark grey, overcast and rainy. Not a trace of alarming reddish colours or the usual roaring of the building psi emission.

“Scar!” Strelok was getting impatient from being ignored.

He didn’t answer. Could it be that he was wrong? Scar still felt like he always did before a blowout, but nothing was happening.

“Can you please fucking answer me?!”

A sudden cracking sound, like the earth was being ripped apart, followed by a flash of intense light. Still, it looked like a thunder from storm. Too normal. Or it did right until everything went dark as midnight.

The violent change of color into a red so deep it looked brown was accompanied by furious howling of the wind and the crackling of thunder. So it was a blowout after all. Good to know he hadn’t gone off the deep end yet.

After all those days of calm, the emission now was determined to make them pay for it. Scar and Strelok waited for the emission to pass, holding onto each other for support. Scar was aware he was bleeding from the nose again, even though he had taken cover this time. Strelok clung to his arm with a vice-like grip. Since it was impossible to hear anything over the roar of the blowout, Scar simply grabbed Strelok’s hand and squeezed it tight. His head felt like someone was trying to scramble his brain, although it had been much, much worse whenever he’d weathered the emissions while outside.

Time always seemed to stand still during blowouts, a strange lurch in the flow of time until it was over and life resumed as normal. And when the psi storm vanished, it left the normal storm in its place like nothing happened.  Scar was slightly dizzy, but he was confident it would soon pass. He used his sleeve to wipe the nosebleed, but blood kept flowing. And when he took a step forward he stumbled and nearly fell down.

“I’ve got you,” Strelok said as he held him upright. “You’re safe, I won’t let you fall.”

But falling wasn’t the problem here and they both knew it. Perhaps he should accept Ozersky’s offer and let him run those tests. Guess it was time to know exact how fucked up he was.

“Strelok? Getting under the rain now would be great.” Feeling the cold water on his face sounded heavenly.

“Oh, so now it is a good idea, but when I suggest it then it’s madness,” Strelok’s complaint was half serious, half a joke. But Scar could also tell the worry buried beneath it all.

The rain worked like a charm and soon he was able to walk on his own without wobbling. Still, Strelok kept Scar’s arm slung over his shoulders like it was the most normal thing to do.

“I can walk on my own, you know.” Walking was easier when you weren’t being guided by a considerably smaller person.

Strelok just said  _“_ _Sure you do_ _”_  and held onto his arm tighter. Stubborn idiot, he could kiss him and hit him for that. He was seriously thinking about doing either of those. Strelok even looked up at him, expectantly. However, the moment was killed by the distant groaning of a new horde of zombified stalkers approaching from the south. Were they endless or what?

“C’mon, let’s go,” Strelok sighed and tugged at his arm. 

Scar thought about firing at the zombies for breaking such a promising moment, but it was a waste of bullets. So he let himself be led by the stubborn stalker holding him, and they slowly walked together under the rain and away from the wrecked village.


	5. Borrowed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not a request, I simply was inspired by a cute drawing of Strelok in Scar’s clothes.

The freezing rain had turned into a hail at some point while Scar slept, and he was awakened by the clinking sound of small ice pebbles pelting the metal roof. He felt like he’d barely rested, couldn’t have been asleep for long.

A storm surprised him and Strelok on their way back to meet with Degtyarev, soaking them in a matter of seconds and forcing them to find refuge in the first building with a roof they found. Which turned out to be this sort of warehouse. It had been occupied by a poltergeist, who took exception to their trespassing and started throwing crates at them, but after Strelok killed it with extreme prejudice, the pieces of the broken crates made for a nice bonfire. Scar had left his coat and his boots next to the fire, hoping they’d dry. Strelok looked like a drowned rat, so he stripped down to the ratty sweater and worn trousers he wore underneath his suit, which were also slightly damp but he refused to take them off. Instead, the stubborn man preferred to huddle next to the small fire and pretend he wasn’t freezing and shivering. Fine.

“I’ll take first watch,” Strelok said, nearly sitting on the fire.

That was about two hours ago, three at most. In the meantime the fire had died and only the embers remained. A figure in an oversized coat huddled by its side and trying to revive the fire with random bits of trash from the floor.

“Is that my coat?” Scar asked, knowing perfectly well it was.

“Maybe.” Strelok snuggled into it, looking like a kid trying on his father’s clothes. “It was the only dry thing from the pile.”

Feeling bold, Scar got up and sat behind Strelok, wrapping his arms around the stalker. Strelok tensed up, like a cat about to hiss, as he always did at first when it came to physical contact. Eventually, he slowly relaxed, leaning against Scar.

“Your coat smells like wet dog,” Strelok informed him.

Scar masked his amused snort as a grunt. “Then give it back.”

“If you’re cold find me something else to burn,” Strelok said, leaning against his shoulder and looking up at him.

Scar didn’t have any intention of moving, and despite his words Strelok didn’t seem inclined to let him leave either, his hands gripping Scar’s arms tightly. 

When the embers and the rain died down, they had long ago fallen asleep like that.


End file.
